


The Ties That Bind Us

by HumbleFarmer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abusive Parent, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumbleFarmer/pseuds/HumbleFarmer
Summary: If Jon doesn't act fast, he will be deported before he can finish his work at the Usher Foundation.Elias has a suggestion, and Martin agrees to help Jon in any way he can — something they both may come to regret.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 92
Kudos: 237





	1. Exhibit One: Photographs

After ten years, Martin knew a thing or two about passing by unnoticed at the Usher Foundation. He made friendly, forgettable small talk with his coworkers, turned in passable work on time, and avoided his supervisor Jonathan Sims at all costs.

The last one was new. Jon had transferred to the archives from the Magnus Institute about three years ago, and Martin had taken Elias’s offer to move to the archives just last month. At first he had been thrilled. A fellow Londoner! Not that Martin could really call himself a Londoner anymore when he had naturalized into American citizenship five years ago, but he still considered himself a Londoner at heart, even if his accent now only reflected his past when he was flustered or upset.

Unfortunately, Martin hadn’t even gotten the chance to explain their shared heritage to Jon before his boss had decided that Martin’s presence in the archives was a punishment inflicted by Elias. Martin still didn’t really understand what he had done to upset Jon so soon after meeting him, but after one too many dressings down, he decided avoiding Jon was the healthiest way to continue his time at the Usher Foundation.

He kept to his desk and ate his lunch in the break room at the same time Jon took his lunch break in his office. He only turned in reports to Jon’s desk when he knew Jon would be outside for what he claimed was a walk but Martin knew to be a cigarette. Tim and Sasha, the other two archival assistants, seemed to manage fine with Jon, but the work environment simply stayed more pleasant if Martin stayed out of everyone’s way as much as possible.

At exactly fifteen minutes after ten, Martin let himself into Jon’s office to drop off his report, a thing he had done dozens of times with no problems, when an angry voice froze him in the doorway.

“Martin, knocking is a thing people do,” Jon snapped from behind his desk, his dark eyes furious.

“So sorry,” Martin stammered, torn between letting himself all the way in or backing out entirely. He wasn’t sure what would be more awkward at this point, and his panic grew with every second he spent deciding. “I was just, uh—”

Jon raised his eyebrows, and anything Martin was about to say died in his throat. How did one politely explain, _you’re normally on your smoke break right now and I avoid you at all costs_ , to a supervisor?

“Could you hurry this along? I have a meeting with Elias in ten minutes, and I would really rather not explain that I was held up by one of my assistants,” Jon said.

“Right, sorry, of course, I just dropping this off,” Martin managed, holding up the file.

“Clearly,” Jon said and gestured toward the stack of reports.

Martin placed his on top, nearly toppled the entire stack, straightened them, and then scrambled out of Jon’s office with mumbled apologies before he could hear Jon’s disappointed sigh. He retreated to his desk and pretended to work until he heard the sound of Jon leaving his office and going upstairs for his meeting with Elias. Only then did he finally relax, and his heartbeat started to drift down to a normal level.

His flaming cheeks took the longest to return to their usual state, and Martin personally blamed that on the fact that Jon had worn the dark purple button-up Martin liked. Because here was the thing about avoiding Jonathan Sims — Martin did so to avoid the inevitable lectures and exasperated sighs, but he also stayed out of his supervisor’s way because Martin had a hopeless crush on him.

It wasn’t just that Jon was attractive in an odd way or that his voice sent shivers down Martin’s spine. No, Martin had noticed Jon long before he had been transferred to the archives. He had seen him offer a bit of comfort and guidance to a crying graduate student who had gotten overwhelmed, and he’d seen him crack dry jokes with Tim and Sasha. Jon could actually be charming and kind, but those traits just never seemed to carry over when Martin was involved.

Of course Martin would fall for someone who apparently hated him personally.

Rather than linger on the morning’s disastrous interaction, Martin threw himself into his work. He made a few cursory phone calls that mostly ended in voicemail, and he buried himself so deeply in his folders that he jumped when his phone started ringing. It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise considering how many times he had left his name and number that morning, but so few people ended up calling him back.

He answered in his cheeriest voice. “Hello, the Usher Foundation, this is Martin.”

“Hi Martin, this is Rosie. Elias needs you in his office as soon as possible.”

“Wait, what?”

“Elias asked for you if you can make it up to his office,” Rosie said even though they both knew Martin had heard her the first time. He just didn’t understand, and his heart was pounding all over again.

He stammered out a confirmation that he would work his way to Elias’s office immediately, and then he fought the urge to go vomit in the bathroom. For what possible reason would Elias ask for him? Had he finally noticed the discrepancies in Martin’s C.V.? But wasn’t he in a meeting with Jon? Was that what they had been talking about?

Martin straightened his cardigan over his button-up even though he knew there was likely nothing that would save him his job now. He took the stairs up to the first floor and then to the second where Elias’s office was. He took a deep breath, desperately tried to ignore the way his stomach churned, and knocked on Elias’s door.

A woman Martin didn’t recognize opened it, and for one moment, he wondered if he had knocked on the wrong door in his panic. Then the woman stepped back, and his eyes landed on a smug Elias, a flustered Jon, and another woman, this one in a headscarf.

“Martin, wonderful,” Elias greeted. “Please come sit.”

Martin hesitantly entered the room and took the chair next to Jon. He tried to meet Jon’s eyes for some clue as to why he was here, but Jon fixed his glare on Elias and refused to waver. The man in the headscarf sat on Elias’s side of the desk while the other woman hovered near the door like a bodyguard. 

“Um, hi,” Martin said, unsure of what to say.

“Martin, I’d like you to meet Basira, the Usher Foundation’s attorney, and Daisy, Basira’s paralegal,” Elias introduced, gesturing to the two women. “They’ve been helping us with Jon’s work visa.”

“Okay,” Martin said, elongating the word in a way that was clearly the question, _what does this have to do with me?_

Jon’s immigration status definitely seemed like something that should only involve Jon, his employer, and their legal representation. If Jon wanted advice, then maybe Martin could share his own experience with immigration, but that had been so long ago. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t offer better advice than that of his attorney.

“I believe you immigrated to America quite a bit ago, isn’t that right? But you’re a legal citizen now,” Elias prompted.

“You’re an immigrant?” Jon said sharply, finally turning to look at Martin for the first time.

Martin blushed even though this was hardly a secret. Most people at the Usher Foundation knew Martin was originally from London, but Jon had simply never bothered to learn anything about him.

“Yes,” he said. “I naturalized… a while ago.”

Martin had almost specified that he had filed for naturalization five years ago, but he shied away from giving out too much of a timeline. After all, his C.V. told a very different story from the one he had lived, and he didn’t want his direct supervisor, boss, and the company’s attorney paying too much attention.

“So you’re familiar with the temporary work visa?” Elias said.

“From where?” Jon interrupted, clearly still focused on this revelation about Martin.

“Um, London,” Martin offered in a small voice.

Jon sat back in his chair, his dark skin coloring with the slightest tinge of pink. “You don’t have an accent,” he said.

“I’ve lived here a long time,” Martin said.

“So Martin, are you familiar with the temporary work visa?” Basira asked. “Is that how you came over?”

“No, my mother was sick, so she came as a candidate for a medical trial. I was her dependent at the time, so I came along, too. It was later that I applied for work authorization and permanent residency,” he explained.

He tried to keep his voice as even as possible, and he met Basira’s eyes rather than Jon’s or Elias’s. She had a very calming presence, and when he shared his story with her, the memories roused by the words didn’t seem quite so daunting. No one else needed to know how his mother had dragged him screaming from his home and friends or how he’d been bullied mercilessly in school for his accent and stupid questions. They just wanted to know about how he’d come to place residency here though Martin still didn’t understand what this had to do with Jon.

“Well, here’s a quick crash course,” Basira said. “And to be clear, this is all confidential. Jon has given his permission for you to hear this, but nothing leaves this room, understand?”

Martin nodded, but he did not dare look at Jon. He was fairly certain that Jon’s permission had been begrudging at best.

“Jon is here on an L-1A visa. An L-1A is a manager at a company, so when I submit an L-1 petition, I typically include emails that show him managing subordinates, performance reviews, approvals for projects, that kind of thing. Jon was the head of research at the Magnus Institute, so I was able to get him an L-1A visa fairly easily,” Basira explained, and then her voice shifted from professional to annoyed. “Unfortunately, since Jon was promoted to head archivist here at Usher, he’s completely dropped the ball.”

“I really don’t think—” Jon tried to interrupt, but Basira pinned him with a glare, and he went silent.

“What evidence can I use, Jon? You reading statements doesn’t show managerial responsibility. You haven’t emailed anyone who works for you in months,” she said.

Now that Martin thought about it, had he ever received an email from Jon? Normally, he dropped a file on Martin’s desk with a sticky note on top with his requests.

“What Basira is trying to say is that Jon’s work visa extension was denied, and so we either figure out a creative solution, or Jon will be deported,” Elias said. For being the deliverer of bad news, he kept a shockingly jovial tone.

“Deported?” Martin squeaked out.

Jon’s grip on the arms of his chair tightened. “Apparently.”

“So what are the other options?” Martin said.

“This is where I take my leave,” Basira said, and though Martin openly gaped at her, she smoothly exited the room.

Once the door shut behind her, Daisy took her chair next to Elias, who continued as if nothing had happened.

“Now Martin, what I’m about to say isn’t strictly legal, but as you know, we at the Usher Foundation have made exceptions before,” Elias said.

Martin’s heart pounded, and cold sweat beaded down his back. He knew. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why Elias had waited until now, but his boss knew that he had made up everything on his C.V.

“I would hate to lose any member of my faculty,” Elias continued as if Martin wasn’t unraveling in his chair. “That being said, without your help, I’m afraid that might be the case.”

Jon and Daisy remained blissfully unaware, but Martin knew what Elias was saying. It wasn’t paranoia. It wasn’t just his worst fear come to life. He could tell by the gleam in Elias’s eyes. If Martin didn’t go along with whatever Elias was about to suggest, then Martin would no longer have a job at the Usher Foundation. And he really needed this job.

Martin swallowed and nodded. “I understand,” he managed.

“Great,” Elias chirped. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now I know this is unusual, but my suggestion is marriage. It’s a bit cliche, but it has worked in the—”

“What? Are you being serious?” Jon snapped.

There was not enough oxygen in this room. Martin didn’t know how or why, but something had stolen all the breathable air, and he was left quietly suffocating.

“Jon, you can’t be so surprised,” Elias chided. “It’s quite common. Plenty of immigrants gain permanent residency through marriage, and since Martin is single and an Usher employee, he’s the perfect candidate.”

“But that’s quite— I don’t see how—” Jon sputtered.

“Will immigration officers believe it?” Martin asked, and he was proud of himself that his voice did not crack, not even once.

“That’s where Daisy comes in,” Elias said, and he gestured to her.

“Basira needs plausible deniability, but I can tell you everything you need to know in order to make this work,” Daisy said. “It’s just like any other immigration case. We’ll fill out some forms to show that you two are in love and married — you will have to get married soon of course — and then we’ll submit evidence to prove it. Just in this case, the evidence will be photos of the two of you on dates, proof that you’ve met each other’s families, bank statements to show you share finances, that sort of thing.”

“But we don’t have anything like that,” Jon said, and his voice had lost all of its refined quality. Each word he said rose to a higher pitch. “We’re not a couple. We barely know each other. And I’m his _boss_.”

Daisy stared at him as if he was the most stupid human alive. “Obviously we’ll help you with that,” she said. “If you’ll let me, I can walk you through every step of the way.”

Jon shook his head so desperately that Martin would have been insulted if he didn’t agree with the sentiment. He had been prepared to do almost anything for Elias in order to keep his job, but never in a thousand years had he dreamed that would involve marrying his boss who also happened to be the object of a very unfortunate crush.

“Martin, you can’t agree to this,” Jon said, shifting his body to stare at Martin directly. “You see that this is ridiculous.”

Martin bit his lip and glanced at Elias. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but Elias only crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to get deported,” he said, but he kept his eyes on Elias, not Jon. “I mean, this is weird. Obviously. But it’s not real. We’ll just do whatever we need to do to get your green card, and then we can continue life like normal. Nothing really has to change.”

Martin wished he believed that.

“Fantastic,” Elias said, clapping his hands. “I’m glad that’s settled. Daisy, what’s our first step?”

…

Martin was on a date with Jon. He wondered if those words in that order would ever lose their novelty, but he highly doubted it. They had followed Elias’s advice — not that they’d really had a choice — to take the rest of the day off from work in order to get started on taking some photographs for their case.

Jon had grumbled that he didn’t care where they went, and rather than pester him and put him into a worse mood, Martin had suggested an ice cream food truck near a park within walking distance of the Foundation. The weather was pleasant, so they could eat ice cream and take a walk around the park. Jon had agreed even as the expression on his face clearly revealed that he found the whole thing childish.

Martin tried to reassure himself that Jon was just flustered and upset by the situation, and Martin was as well. Still, a part of him wondered if Jon was all the more upset that he had to pretend to be in a relationship with a man he so clearly hated. Martin resolved to make himself as small and amiable as possible because he couldn’t imagine Elias would be understanding if Jon called the whole thing off after he became a bit too fed up with Martin.

“Why did you agree to this?” Jon asked once they’d gotten their ice cream.

Daisy had warned them against discussing the true nature of their relationship in public, but there was hardly anyone around as they strolled down the paved path. Not many people patronized the park in the middle of a work day.

“I told you, I don’t want to see you deported,” Martin said.

At least avoiding someone’s eyes was the normal thing to do on a walk. They both stared ahead and took in the manicured grass and perfectly trimmed trees.

“Martin,” Jon said in the way only he said Martin’s name. So much disdain and disappointment packed into two syllables.

“What do you want me to say, Jon?” Martin sighed. “You love this job, and Elias obviously doesn’t want to let you go. I’m hardly going to be the reason you got deported when I could have done something to stop it.”

Martin immediately wished he could take the words back. They were too honest and tinged with exasperation, and he had just told himself to stay as pleasant as possible. He half expected Jon to explode at him and march back to Elias’s office right away, but then Jon sighed, too.

“I see,” he said. “Okay.”

Martin waited for more, but Jon didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

“So are we going to do this?” Martin asked.

“I don’t see how I have much choice,” Jon said. “We do important work here, and I want to be a part of it. I still don’t understand why you agreed, but if you’re willing to help me, I’m not in a position to turn you away.”

Martin hated to hear Jon sound so defeated, but he couldn’t deny Jon’s assessment of the situation. The two of them were trapped, just in different ways. Jon risked giving up his career and the life he had built here, and Martin simply couldn’t lose his job at Usher. He didn’t exactly feel passionately about archiving statements about the supernatural, but he also knew he would never be able to find a job that covered his mother’s retirement home and healthcare fees without a high school diploma. Ten years ago, he could get away with that — though actually, he hadn’t gotten away with his falsified C.V., and Martin wondered if Elias had been waiting for an opportunity just like this — but now verifying a job application was just an internet search away.

Martin was going to marry his boss to help him get a green card, and he just hoped his pesky crush didn’t complicate matters.

“I suppose we should get a photo,” Jon said.

“Oh, right,” Martin said, and he dug out his phone from his pocket.

The two of them turned with their backs to a nice tree to give the picture a pretty background, but neither one of them seemed to know how close to get. They needed to appear like a couple. That was the whole point, yet Martin still felt like he was crossing a boundary.

Martin accidentally checked Jon’s shoulder and stammered out an apology.

“It’s all right, Martin. We need to look like we’ve at least brushed shoulders before,” Jon said.

A furious blush coated Martin’s cheeks as he considered Jon’s words. Did they need to talk about physical boundaries? Would they have to kiss? Surely not, this wasn’t a rom-com, but didn’t couples kiss in some photos? Would they kiss at the wedding? Would there be a wedding, or would they just go to the courthouse?

Martin could not let his mind go down that route, especially not so close to Jon, so he focused on getting a good angle with his phone. He held up his partially-eaten ice cream and smiled the best he could when he felt like his world was ending.

“Smile, I guess?” Martin said.

Jon looked like he wanted to die in the camera screen, and Martin was fairly sure that wouldn’t make for good evidence. The same thought seemed to occur to Jon because he arranged his face into something that wasn’t a smile but at least wasn’t actively miserable.

Martin snapped the photo.

“Daisy should be happy,” Martin said, reviewing the picture on his phone.

“Right then, back to work,” Jon said, already striding back down the path.

Martin paused and glanced up from his phone. “Wait, what? We’re going back to work?”

“Of course,” Jon said as if they had discussed this before even though they most definitely had not. “This was for a photo, and we got the photo. We might as well fit a bit more work into the day.”

Martin knew this wasn’t a real date. He did. Still, he had thought Jon would at least take the rest of the day to maybe squeeze in a few more date activities for photo opportunities, but he supposed he should have known better.

“Right,” he said.

He followed Jon back to the Usher Foundation. He tried not to feel bad when Jon threw his mostly untouched ice cream in the trash can.


	2. Exhibit Two: Joint Finances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Martin and Jon get a joint bank account and also tell Sasha and Tim the big news

Martin hated the bank. Even when he wore nice khakis and a button-down, he felt underdressed and childish. He remembered being seventeen and trying to open a checking account only to have the teller suggest he bring his mother with him next time. He had worked and paid bills for the last ten years, and he still felt nervous that he would take one step inside a bank and be told to leave.

Jon didn’t seem any happier about spending a Saturday morning at the bank, but Martin was fairly certain that had more to do with the situation at whole. Martin also wasn’t thrilled about that.

He tried to subtly wipe his sweaty hands on his pants, but when they wouldn’t stop shaking, he shoved them into his pockets. He tried to frame the outing as a favor to his boss and not as one more step on his journey to marrying Jon.

“I suppose we should get our story straight,” Jon said as the two of them hovered just outside the bank’s doors.

“Right,” Martin choked out.

“We just need a joint checking account,” Jon said. “Plenty of married couples also keep separate checking accounts. We’ll just both put some money in the joint one to lend it legitimacy, and then we can agree on when to use it.”

“Of course,” Martin said. “We can talk about it before we use the card.”

Jon nodded.

That was really the only thing getting Martin through this. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Jon learned about his abysmal financial situation, but he could manage to put a bit of money in a joint checking account. He hated to see that money go somewhere where he couldn’t use it for rent or groceries, but Martin had lived through tight times before. He could do so again.

“I don’t need to tell you that we can’t talk like this inside the bank,” Jon said.

Martin blushed. “Right, of course not,” he agreed. Though he knew it was problematic, Martin was still talking to Jon like a boss and not a fiancee. Surely that would be a red flag if he carried that approach into the bank.

Actually, this would be the first time they needed to act like an actual engaged couple in front of other people. The thought suddenly lit every nerve inside Martin on fire. When had he last been anyone’s boyfriend? Should he use pet names? Or would he just need to act normal since this was a formal interaction? He took a deep breath to calm down, but it didn’t help nearly as much as he’d hoped.

“No point in putting it off then,” Jon said.

He pushed open the door, and Martin tried not to feel like he was walking to his own execution as he walked inside.

…

“So how much are the two of you wanting to put in the joint account to start out?” the bank teller asked politely.

So far, the interaction had gone fairly smoothly. Mostly paperwork, actually. Martin found there wasn’t much need to act like loving fiancees because people filled out paperwork in silence basically the same whether they were in love or not.

At the teller’s question though, Martin met Jon’s eyes. He had been dreading this part, but he had known to expect it. He’d even transferred some money from his saving account to his checking account in preparation.

“What would be standard?” Jon asked.

The teller shrugged. “It’s really up to you. The minimum is one hundred dollars, so anything beyond that is fine.”

Martin muffled a sigh of relief. He could definitely handle fifty dollars. That was actually ideal. He still hated to see that money leave his budget, but he wouldn’t be put in a bind.

“Hm,” Jon considered. “Would one thousand dollars each be acceptable?”

Martin’s breath caught in his throat. One thousand dollars? He had been prepared to put in five hundred dollars at the most, but he didn’t even have one thousand dollars in his checking account. Shame heated his face.

“Um, are we sure we need to do that much? The minimum is just one hundred.”

“Oh, perhaps,” Jon said, startled. “I just thought we’d need to have quite a bit in the account eventually anyway.”

They would? Martin didn’t dare talk about their immigration case in front of the teller, but he wondered if Jon was thinking about a large joint account lending legitimacy to their marriage. He supposed he understood Jon’s thinking, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about most of his money being in an account shared with his boss.

Jon seemed to sense his distress. “If you would prefer, we can do a smaller amount,” he offered.

He knew his face was bright red, and Martin hated that there were probably sweat stains on his shirt as well.

“You can always transfer money to the account later,” the teller offered.

“Of course, we’ll just put in fifty dollars each for now,” Jon said, and he sounded so firm that Martin didn’t argue.

They finished the paperwork, and then Jon and Martin walked out of the bank co-owners of a joint account. Martin might have marveled at the fact if his pride didn’t still sting from the humiliation. At least Jon hadn’t made a big deal of it, and the teller had been professional and kind. Still, he looked forward to escaping to his flat.

“Would you like to, ah, get lunch?” Jon asked.

The words were so unexpected that Martin openly gaped at him. “Sorry, what?”

Now Jon blushed, and he didn’t quite meet Martin’s eyes. “Well, Daisy did say we need photographs from different times and places. It is a Saturday and all. I thought we could get lunch, but if you have other plans, I completely understand.”

“No, I can do lunch,” Martin agreed. As much as he wanted to curl into a ball on his bed, he was intrigued by this version of Jon. The man he knew from work would never have asked him to lunch, and even if he was purely doing so now out of concern for his court case, Martin was still intrigued.

They picked a cafe that specialized in sandwiches and soups, and Jon chose a table in the corner far away from any of the other patrons. At least Martin assumed that was why Jon had chosen the corner table, but he personally liked the large window that overlooked the street.

“Not quite like home, huh?” he commented, watching people pass by outside.

He liked parts of America, but he missed so much about London. More people walked in London, so the people watching was more interesting, and he missed the hot tea. That was one thing he had refused to acquiesce to when he moved. Tea should be made from a kettle, and he did not want ice, no, thank you very much.

“Why did you never mention you were from London?” Jon asked, and underneath his prickly exterior, he actually sounded a little hurt.

Martin shrugged. “It never came up naturally, and it’s not like you can really tell anymore. It’s funny, you know? I want to go home someday, but if I did, they’ll think I’m some American expatriate.” 

“So you would want to go back?” Jon said.

“Of course, don’t you?” Martin said. He finally turned away from the window to look at Jon directly. “Or do you like America?”

“God no,” Jon said, and Martin laughed. Jon actually cracked a smile before he continued. “It’s purely for the work. I was in the research department at the Magnus Archives, but it felt like so much of my research was leading me here, and only the Usher Foundation had the statements I needed. I thought three years would be enough, but well, the archive was a bit more disorganized that I had thought it would be.”

“Yes, I’m sure that hindered your progress,” Martin agreed though he wondered if Jon also blamed one incompetent assistant for his extended stay as well.

Their food arrived, and that interrupted that train of thought. Martin had ordered tomato soup because he liked the coziness of it, and Jon had chosen a roast beef sandwich. They took a moment to try their food and exchange the typical admirations for the restaurant’s culinary prowess.

Martin had a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth when Jon said, “I’m sorry about what happened at the bank.”

Martin’s hand startled, and a few droplets of soup landed on the table cloth. He returned his spoon to the bowl and tried to subtly dab at his mess. Had Jon just apologized to him?

“Oh it’s fine,” Martin dismissed, cheeks turning pink. He honestly would rather not acknowledge what had happened at the bank at all.

Unfortunately, Jon was not on the same wavelength. Typical.

“No, I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would be in the same financial position as me, and it’s something I should have at least brought up before we were in front of another person,” Jon said.

Martin agreed with him, but he also didn’t feel comfortable accepting the apology. His face still burned with the shame, and he looked down to stir his soup.

“It’s really okay. I know it’s important that we have some money in the joint account, so it’s not suspicious,” he said to his soup.

“Still, I’m already asking enough of you. Too much of you,” Jon added in a quiet voice. He seemed to shake himself from his thought detour, and he continued briskly, “I’ll put the majority of the money in the joint account as this is my problem and you are doing a favor for me.”

“If you do that, Jon, I won’t use the account, I promise. I don’t want to use your money,” Martin assured him.

“Oh good, I was really worried,” Jon said drily.

At first Martin worried he was being serious, but when he finally looked up to Jon’s face, he noticed the wry amusement in his eyes. Martin smiled in turn, and it almost felt like they were having a moment. Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen to both of them.

…

Martin didn’t want to go to work on Monday, and this time, he wasn’t dreading the ever-present risk of angering his supervisor. Actually, he was fairly certain Jon would no longer feel comfortable lecturing him, and that was something at least. No, he was mostly terrified now because today was the day they were going to announce their engagement to Sasha and Tim.

Elias, Basira, and Daisy had decided that the best way to navigate this to avoid legal issues would be to say Jon and Martin had been dating since Jon had moved to the United States, and they hadn’t said anything because they hadn’t wanted their relationship to get in the way of Martin’s promotion to the archives. This idea worked on paper, but Martin wasn’t sure Sasha and Tim would buy it for the sole reason that Jon had openly hated Martin ever since he was transferred.

He dressed in a soft pale blue sweater, and when he looked in the mirror, he tried to imagine a world in which Jon was in love with him and they shared this news for no other reason than their excitement at being engaged. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud in his empty apartment. Jon was smart, witty, handsome, and fiercely motivated. Martin was even less educated than he seemed, ordinary-looking at best, and boring. He would never get someone like Jon without the help of legal entanglements.

Sternly telling himself not to cry, he left for work.

…

The archives were a quiet place, so when Martin first heard yelling as he descended the stairs into the basement, panic swept over him. Should he run back up and call for help? Was there a weapon he could grab? Violence did not come easily to him, but maybe he could muster up something if they were in danger?

He hesitated between stair steps just long enough to recognized the yelling as Sasha’s voice, and then another moment allowed the words to register in his mind.

“—would you treat someone you love like that? You’re lucky he still wants to be with you after you belittled him and shouted at him over every little thing—”

Ah, so Jon had decided to tell Tim and Sasha on his own. Martin was actually a little flattered that Sasha was so quick to come to his defense and also a little validated that the mistreatment from Jon was not all in his head. Part of him wanted to hover at the stairs a little longer to see what Jon would say in his defense, but he couldn’t be that cruel. He walked to the bottom floor and found Jon all but cowering before Sasha’s pointed finger.

“I swear, if you treat him like that behind closed doors, I will shove this tape recorder up your—”

“Um, Sasha,” Martin interrupted before Sasha’s rant could get too graphic.

Sasha and Jon both turned to stare at him — Sasha with shock and Jon with an expression Martin didn’t know how to interpret. Tim, who had been leaning against his desk to watch, straightened and joined the group at Martin’s entrance.

“Martin,” Sasha exclaimed. “Is it true?”

Martin looked between Sasha and Tim’s shocked faces, and suddenly no words came to mind, so he nodded.

“How could you let him treat you like this? Have you been dating all this time? Jon, you have some nerve proposing when—”

“Sasha, this is what we agreed,” Martin interrupted. He hadn’t thought through what he was going to say, but Jon looked so devastated that he couldn’t let Sasha get started on him again.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning her attention back to Martin.

“Jon didn’t want his position as head archivist to hurt my career, and if I did get promoted, he didn’t want anyone to think it wasn’t earned. When I was transferred to the archives, we agreed to keep up appearances like we didn’t know each other,” Martin said, not daring to look Jon in the eyes.

“Hell of a way to keep people off your scent,” Tim said, and he looked to Jon. “Sasha and I really thought you hated him.”

Jon blushed bright red, and Martin knew he must look exactly the same.

“Yes, well, we agreed it was for the best,” Jon mumbled.

“Then why call off the charade now?” Sasha said.

“We, uh, got engaged, so it wasn’t really necessary anymore,” Martin said. “Elias said it didn’t matter if we worked in the same department if we were married.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes, and Martin suddenly understood why she was so good at research. It was hard not to spill every secret in his heart with that stare fixed on him.

“Still, that doesn’t explain why now,” she said.

“I didn’t want to treat him that way anymore,” Jon said, and Martin didn’t know whether to feel more surprise or relief that Jon had stepped into the conversation. He certainly felt overwhelmed with both. “We were planning to get married sometime anyway, and if it meant we could be open with our relationship, this seemed the best solution.”

“How romantic?” Tim offered, but he sounded unsure.

Martin supposed the story came across as a little too pragmatic, but that was what this relationship was in reality. Jon needed someone single and malleable, and Martin was too spineless to say no to entering into a loveless marriage with the man he had a crush on.

“It was a mistake to treat him that way,” Jon continued, and Martin looked up in surprise to meet his eyes. He wanted to look away, but Jon’s stare was a difficult thing to shake. He just seemed so sincere, and Martin absolutely could not handle that.

“Well, we didn’t have any better ideas at the time,” Martin laughed nervously.

Jon shook his head. “It was still a mistake.”

Was Jon still acting for Tim and Sasha? If he was, he was laying it on a little thick, but if he wasn’t, well, Martin didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Well I suppose congratulations are in order then,” Sasha said. “I still think it was stupid to put on the farce to begin with, but I am happy for you guys.”

“Yeah, what are we still doing here?” Tim jumped in. “We should be out celebrating!”

“It’s half past eight in the morning,” Jon said.

“Fine, then we’re celebrating tonight,” Tim said. “No arguments. I’m choosing the bar.”

Martin and Jon’s gazes met, and Jon shook his head and sighed. Martin smiled. There was no fighting Tim when he got an idea in his head, and even if they weren’t engaged in the traditional way, Martin really wouldn’t mind getting just a little bit drunk right about now.

…

Tim picked a nice rooftop bar with fairy lights strung from the roof and a truly impressive amount of potted plants. When Sasha commented that this didn’t seem like one of his regular hangouts, Tim winked and said he knew his audience.

Martin was personally relieved that they weren’t going anywhere rowdy or dirty, but on the other hand, this kind of atmosphere was more conducive to casual chatting. Normally he would love that, but he wasn’t sure his supposed relationship with Jon could stand under much more scrutiny. Maybe if they all downed their first drinks as quickly as possible, everything would be fine.

Thankfully, Tim and Sasha knew how to keep conversation light and pleasant, and once they were seated at a tall table that overlooked the city, Tim had them all raise their glasses.

“To the happy couple,” he said.

Martin blushed deeply, but he clinked his glass with the rest of them and took a deep drink.

“So how did you two meet?” Sasha asked.

Martin and Jon exchanged glances, and Martin hoped he didn’t look as terrified as he felt.

“Um at the foundation,” Martin said. “You know how you just run into people who aren’t in your department. It happened pretty soon after Jon was transferred.”

“Ooh who asked who out first?” Tim said.

Martin couldn’t imagine a world in which Jon was interested in him first, so he answered, “I did. I thought he was cute.”

Well, he hadn’t meant to say that last part, and he quickly took a large drink from his glass. The alcohol burned but not as much as his face. He didn’t dare look at Jon, but Tim’s wolfish grin was bad enough.

Thankfully, Sasha seemed to recognize his discomfort because she started asking about wedding planning. Jon stepped into the conversation then, and Martin was surprised by how far he’d gotten in the planning. He mentioned a few possible venues and dates. Before Martin could let his heart feel too much about that though, he reminded himself that Jon was just invested in his continued stay in the country.

They ended up having a few more drinks than was probably wise when they all had work the next morning, but Martin embraced the warm, floaty feeling. He hadn’t relaxed since Elias had first called him into his office — honestly had he ever relaxed in his life? — and he let himself have this one moment of feeling detached from his problems. Jon, pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, seemed to have taken the same approach.

“Well we’ll let you two enjoy the rest of the celebration on your own,” Sasha said, confirming on her phone that her Uber was waiting for her outside.

“In your own special way,” Tim said with a lecherous grin.

Martin sputtered, but Sasha and Tim were already gone before he could wrangle his scattered thoughts into a response.

“We should probably go as well,” Martin said to Jon.

Jon nodded, but Martin tried not to think too much about how he’d grown quieter throughout the night.

Martin called for an Uber for them both while Jon paid the tab. Martin had been planning to pay for his own drinks, and he blushed when Jon waved him off, thinking about the disastrous trip to the bank. Would Jon insist on paying for everything now? Martin would have to bring it up later though he already dreaded that conversation.

The two of them left the bar and waited on the sidewalk for the Uber. Though Martin still felt the warm heaviness of alcohol, the fun had mostly worn off, and he just wanted to go to bed and forget now.

“I really did treat your horribly,” Jon said.

The comment was so sudden that Martin thought he’d misheard. He stared at Jon in shock, and he’d never seen the other man look so distraught and sincere. The few drinks had stripped down his emotional walls until every feeling was on display for Martin to see, and his heart ached.

“It’s really okay, Jon,” Martin said. “It’s in the past.”

Jon snorted, a sound Martin had most definitely never heard from him before. “You mean last week?” he said.

“The last week is the past,” Martin agreed. “Things are different now.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to this. You deserve better,” Jon continued.

“Jon, I think you’re tired and tipsy. It’s fine, okay? We’re doing what’s best.”

“Yes, what’s best for me,” Jon persisted. “But not what’s best for you.”

Martin sighed. He suddenly felt exhausted.

When the Uber arrived, he put Jon in the car. He’d order a second one for himself.


	3. Exhibit Three: Shared Residence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Martin moves in with Jon and it's not as bad as it could be

This was the part Jon had been dreading. Elias and Daisy had explained in no uncertain terms that Jon and Martin would have to move in together as soon as possible to lend legitimacy to their story, and now that they had told their coworkers they were engaged, there was nothing stopping them.

Jon was really going to miss having his own flat.

Maybe Martin wouldn’t be the worst person to live with — certainly better than Tim — but Jon could already imagine Martin wanting to chat first thing in the morning or playing music out loud when Jon wanted to read. He was already annoyed at the prospect, and they hadn’t even talked about it yet. However, that was something he needed to rectify soon.

Jon had been in his office for hours, but once he was sure Martin had clocked in, he ventured into the archives and met Martin at his desk. The other man looked up with surprise, and Jon cleared his throat.

“Would you like to go out for lunch today?” he asked.

He felt overly conscious of his tone with Tim and Sasha within earshot. He didn’t want to sound like a supervisor giving an order to a subordinate, but he also didn’t want to be inappropriate. This was why he had been hiding out in his office so much in the first place.

“Sure,” Martin said, still with that open look of shock.

“Right,” Jon said, rapped on Martin’s desk twice, and retreated back to his office.

He did his best to bury himself in his work. After all, this was the reason for this whole charade as he tried to remind himself. Back in London, he’d felt that he was on the brink of something important, and all the answers weren’t in England. He couldn’t return now when he hadn’t found what he was looking for three years ago.

He was so caught up in his work that when Martin knocked on his door and poked his head in, his first reaction was to snap, “What?”

Martin’s face fell, and his voice wavered as he said, “Um, lunch? If you still want to do that?”

Jon glanced at his watch to find the time half past one, and guilt stabbed at his gut. Martin had probably waited as long as he reasonably could before coming to check on him, and he’d still bitten his head off. Jon really had been trying to be better, but that clearly wasn’t coming naturally.

He took special care to make his voice gentler when he replied, “Yes, of course. I’ll just grab my coat, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Martin nodded and slipped away without a word. Jon sighed. He really was going to be a nightmare of a husband.

…

Jon chose a Thai restaurant near the foundation, and once the two had received their food, they claimed a table outside on the patio. Both of them spent a lot of time in the archives, and sometimes it was nice to get a bit of fresh air and sunlight. Martin seemed to like the choice because he kept losing sight of his food to stare at passing cars or cheerful dogs barely restrained by their leashes.

“Thanks for lunch,” Martin said when he remembered his soy sauce noodles.

Jon swallowed his bite of pad Thai. “I thought we might want some privacy to discuss our living arrangements,” he said.

Martin’s face fell, and Jon suddenly wished he hadn’t been so quick to jump to business. Then again, that’s what this relationship was, and there was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin deserved to hold out for real love eventually instead of whatever tolerance he would be able to muster for Jon.

“Right, I suppose that does need to happen soon,” Martin said. “I don’t mind sleeping on your couch. I can pay half the rent and utility or whatever.”

He stirred his noodles but never took a bite, and Jon had a feeling Martin just didn’t want to look at him. Part of Jon wanted to snap, but he knew that was just his own guilt manifesting, and Martin didn’t deserve the brunt of it. After the disaster at the bank, Jon had told himself to consider Martin and his situation more in this process.

“Why don’t we visit each other’s flats? Then we can debate the pros and cons of each,” he suggested.

Martin looked up in the surprise. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind moving into yours. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“No, no, that would be fine,” Jon said. “And you wouldn’t be sleeping on my couch. I can convert my office into another bedroom, but we might as well consider all our options.”

Martin opened his mouth to say something more, but then he just nodded. They made plans to go to Martin’s flat first thing after work.

…

Jon missed the tube. And walking. It was so difficult to be environmentally conscious in America where everyone had their own car and drove separately even if they were going to the same place. He recognized the hypocrisy as he himself drove in his own car and followed Martin to his flat, but he still believed in the sentiment.

However, the farther they got from the Usher Foundation, the more Jon was starting to wonder if he was following the right car. He recognized Martin’s license plate, but they had long since passed all the average residential neighborhoods. They now headed into a part of town that Jon had been told to avoid when he first moved here.

Martin pulled up in front of a grungy apartment complex that looked like it was an active crime scene every other week.

There was no way Jon was living here.

Actually, he didn’t like the idea of Martin living here either. Maybe it was a good thing they were getting married if it meant Martin could leave this place and move in with him, but of course, Jon couldn’t say that. He may not have many social skills available to him, but even he recognized that he would crush Martin if he outright refused to live here because he didn’t want cockroaches and rats underfoot. He needed to at least keep an open mind, and he refused to make the same mistake he had made at the bank.

He parked his car and met Martin outside one of the apartments. Now that Jon looked closer, he thought he could have picked this one out as Martin’s. It was the only one with a welcome mat at the door and a tiny plant beneath the doorbell. They were small gestures, but they offered a hint of warmth.

When Jon met his eyes, he regretted this entire endeavor. Martin looked so miserable as he offered Jon a half smile, and without either of them saying a word, they both knew there was no way Jon would move into Martin’s flat. Still, Jon didn’t want to make Martin feel any worse, so he did his best to smile in turn.

“Thank you for inviting me into your home,” he said.

“Right,” Martin snorted. “Well it’s not much. Come on then.”

He let them both inside, and though the space was smile, it was clean and as cozy as possible considering the circumstances. There was a small couch positively smothered with pillows, and Jon noted more plants both in the living room and the small kitchen.

“I can make us some tea?” Martin offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Feel free to make yourself at home and take a look around, but well.” Martin shrugged. “I don’t have a spare bedroom or anything, and I can’t imagine—” He sighed heavily. “Point is, I get this place isn’t much to look at, so I don’t expect you to want to move here or anything. I’m fine with whatever apartment you have.”

“It’s a decision for both of us to make, not just me,” Jon said, but he hated himself that he was already listing arguments in his head for his own flat. The fact that most of the arguments were in favor of bettering Martin’s life did not make him feel any better.

Martin hummed a noncommittal response as he set his kettle boiling and divided tea leaves between two diffusers. While he worked on the tea, Jon explored the flat which admittedly did not take long. There was only one bedroom, and as Jon didn’t want to invade Martin’s privacy, his main takeaway was that Martin was surprisingly neat considering how chaotic his desk and research notes could be. The bathroom was also tidy, but Jon spotted mold in the ceiling. He guessed that the maintenance requests were not exactly answered swiftly around here.

Was the Usher Foundation not paying Martin enough? He didn’t seem like the type to mismanage his money so badly that he ended up living in a dodgy neighborhood when he was fairly certain Tim and Sasha were doing fine. Was Martin in debt?

Ironically, though they would soon be married, Jon didn’t feel like he was in a position where he could ask.

“Tea’s ready,” Martin said.

Jon took the mug and followed Martin to his couch. He moved a few pillows to allow himself room to sit on one side, and Martin sat on the other. They had subconsciously put as much space between them as possible.

Jon sipped from his mug, and he smiled softly at the familiar flavor. Martin did know how to make a properly good cup of tea.

“Thank you,” he said. “This is very good.”

Martin smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “Listen, we can go to your apartment if you want, but it just makes sense for me to end my lease here. I know what it looks like, and I don’t want you to live here.”

Jon hated to see how dejected Martin looked, and while he didn’t want to cross any boundaries, he also couldn’t help his own curiosity.

“Martin, if you don’t like this place, who do you still live here? Do you need some help?” he said as gently as possible.

Shame colored Martin’s face, and he stared down at his mug. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just, well, my mother’s in a home, and it’s a bit expensive. She deserves to live her last years in peace though, so I really don’t mind living a little more modestly if she can be comfortable.”

Jon personally thought this living situation leaned a little closer to destitute than modest, but he couldn’t say that, not now.

“Whatever rent you’re paying now, you can continue to pay that amount to me,” Jon said.

Now Martin did look up and meet his eyes, newly impassioned. “No, Jon, I can’t let you do that. If we’re going to split an apartment, we should split all the expenses.”

“Martin, you’re the one doing this huge favor for me. I’m making you prematurely end your lease and move in with me, so the least I can do is try to make that as easy as possible,” he argued.

Martin chewed on his bottom lip to the point that Jon worried he would break skin. “I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” he murmured.

“You take advantage of me?” Jon said, and he laughed with just a tinge of hysteria. “Martin, you’re my employee, and I’m putting you in a position where you have to marry me to let me stay in the country. I don’t think you have to worry about taking advantage of me in this situation, especially not when—”

Jon cut himself off, but he was too late. Martin stared at him with open curiosity, his head tilted just a bit to the side.

“Especially not when?” he prompted.

Jon sighed. “Especially not when I treated you so horribly. Sasha’s right. It was abhorrent behavior, and I’m frankly surprised you didn’t turn me into Immigration Services at the first opportunity. It would have made your life easier.”

Jon still didn’t completely understand why Martin had agreed to the whole charade. Part of him had no problem believing Martin would do such a thing purely from the kindness of his heart — he was the type of person to do such a thing — but something in his gut told him he was missing something.

“I told you, I didn’t want to see you forced to leave,” Martin said, and his voice softened. “It’s okay, Jon. I forgive you. I won’t lie, it wasn’t fun when you yelled at me all the time, but I get it. I know I wasn’t the best as the job.”

“That’s still no excuse,” Jon said.

“Maybe not, but there’s point in dwelling on it now. Time to move forward,” Martin said.

Jon never thought he’d be in the position where Martin Blackwood was telling him to be practical and move past his feelings, but here they were. He supposed he had a point, but the guilt ate at him. He’d been so quick to judge Martin as incompetent, and he’d never stopped to consider Martin as a person or his situation.

“Would you like to see my flat before we make our final decision?” he asked.

Martin smiled. “No, that’s okay. Just let me know when you’re ready for me to move in.”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?”

…

Jon spent the rest of the week clearing out the spare bedroom. He moved all his office furniture into his bedroom, and he did his best to make the place look homey and nice. He ordered a bed frame and new mattress as he suspected Martin’s was hardly worth moving out of his flat, and he went ahead and bought a matching end table and chest of drawers. He didn’t mention any of this to Martin and planned to play it off as if the spare bedroom had been furnished this way all along. Perhaps Martin wouldn’t remember that he’d previously called the room his office.

Though he knew his flat was objectively nicer and bigger than Martin’s, he still felt oddly self-conscious as the weekend drew closer. Should he add some plants or candles? Maybe some pillows? Martin’s flat had still seemed like a home, and Jon’s still had the vibe of a hotel room.

He ended up setting out sunflowers on the kitchen table, and he bought a couple of fall-scented candles as the season was upon them. The efforts looked feeble in his eyes, but perhaps Martin would still find the sight comforting.

At ten on Saturday morning, Martin knocked, and Jon immediately opened the door. He tried to ignore the manic energy just beneath his skin.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” Martin said with his ever-present smile. “I have my stuff.”

He lifted a suitcase to demonstrate, and Jon glanced behind him. “Do you have more in your car?” he asked.

“Oh, um, just one other bag, but I can get it myself. I wanted to see how much I could fit in the room,” he said.

“Certainly more than two suitcases,” Jon said, and he gestured for Martin to come inside.

He led him to the spare bedroom, and he tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating when Martin took his first look inside.

“Oh, wow, it’s really nice,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I thought you said this was an office?”

Martin turned to look at him with wide eyes, and Jon hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Oh, um, yes, it was, but I just moved around a few things in preparation. Hardly any effort at all.”

Martin clearly didn’t believe him, but his whole demeanor softened. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s really nice.”

“We ought to get the rest of your things,” Jon said before the moment could get away from him entirely.

They moved Martin’s suitcases into the bedroom, and Jon left him to settle in. He felt a little unsure of what to do with himself before he realized he had been so concerned about the bedroom that he wasn’t sure about the state of the fridge and pantry. Sure enough, he found both woefully empty save for some sandwich supplies and milk.

Martin walked into the kitchen while Jon was checking the date on some lunchmeat.

“I’m all set up,” he said with a cheeriness that did little to mask how awkward he felt.

Jon could relate, but he had the added humiliation of being completely unable to offer his guest — could he call Martin a guess if he was moving in? — a proper dinner. He subtly placed the lunchmeat in the trash can and offered, “Would you want to order from somewhere for dinner?”

Martin glanced at the trash can and then at the open cabinet behind Jon. “Um, I thought maybe I could go shopping? Just I’ll be living here, and I’ll need to make breakfasts, lunches, you know,” he said.

Jon couldn’t fault Martin’s logic there, but he still felt like he’d failed already. Martin had been here a total of five minutes, and he was already picking up Jon’s slack when Jon was supposed to be the mature one.

Before he could spiral too deeply into his thoughts, Martin offered, “Would you want to go together? You probably have a better idea of where to get groceries here.”

It was nothing Martin couldn’t look up himself, but at least Jon felt useful as he agreed to show Martin where the store was. He even offered to drive, and Martin agreed. The drive itself wasn’t terrible with the radio playing, and as they went through the grocery store, Jon was surprised by how easily they fell into a rhythm.

Martin seemed to already have an idea of what he wanted even without making a list, and he occasionally asked Jon if they already had some ingredient or another. Jon almost always had to reply no, but the small exchanges were domestic in a way beyond just sharing a lease.

On their way back home, Martin said, “I thought I’d make some soup tonight. It can be nice to have for lunches throughout the week.”

Jon’s first instinct was to argue because he was perfectly fine ordering takeout for them both or even whipping something up himself, but he couldn’t exactly tell Martin not to make lunches for himself for the week. Still, just as he suspected, when Martin finished his soup, he offered Jon some for dinner. The two of them ate together at the kitchen table, and Jon tried not to think about this was his first time using his own kitchen table in quite a while.

It was nice, and that felt dangerous.

…

They carpooled to work now. It felt stupid not to, and besides, Tim and Sasha would get suspicious if they insisted on taking different vehicles to work now that their relationship was public knowledge.

At least that was how Jon justified it in his head, but he also kind of liked driving with Martin in the morning. They didn’t talk much, but it was nice to have a moment of shared companionship before the work day started.

They also ate lunch together now, usually leftovers because Martin actually tended to cook quite a bit.

After work, they sometimes went on a walk in the park near their apartment. They went the first time to get a photo, but then like so many parts of this relationship, they went again and then again. It was nice to get some fresh hour after so many hours in the archives.

Jon was starting to think that marriage wouldn’t be so bad if they just continued life like this. They certainly ate healthier and got more exercise now, and he liked Martin’s company. That was probably the biggest surprise at all, but when Martin stopped babbling nervously, he could be funny and thoughtful.

Things were going remarkably well — much better than Jon had expected — so of course, Elias had to come in and ruin everything.


	4. Exhibit Four: Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon meets Martin's mother

This time, Martin was on the email chain when Elias summoned them to his office for a meeting. As soon as he skimmed the subject line, he went to Jon’s office and shut the door behind him. Tim would no doubt tease him later for not lasting a full morning without a kiss from his fiancee, but he didn’t want to risk blowing their cover.

“I suppose you got the email then,” Jon said.

Martin nodded, and he took the chair across from Jon’s desk. “I guess you don’t know what this is about either?”

Jon shook his head. “I know we need to get married soon, but I thought we were on the right track. Perhaps this is just to check in.”

“I hope so,” Martin said, but he couldn’t help but worry. 

They both tried to get some work done before the meeting, but Martin was fairly certain he would have to redo everything once he got back. Judging by Jon’s face, he was just as productive. The two of them walked to Elias’s office in silence, but Martin at least preferred this to being summoned unceremoniously. He and Jon were a team this time. They lived together and shared meals, and lately, they spent their evenings in the living room. Jon usually read while Martin scribbled poetry in his notebook. His poems were getting sappier and sappier.

Inside Elias’s office, Daisy waited for him. Martin was already on edge, but his heartbeat sped up when he realized the implication of Basira choosing not to be a part of this conversation.

“Perfect, please have a seat,” Elias said.

Jon and Martin both sat. Martin attempted a smile, but Jon’s expression settled into the sneer that used to haunt Martin’s nightmares.

“What’s this about? I thought we wouldn’t have to get married for another month,” Jon said.

“Yes, that is the current timeline to make all this seem natural,” Elias agreed.

“Then is something wrong?” Jon said.

“Not wrong per se,” Elias said. “I just want to make sure we have the tightest case possible.”

“Your joint bank account and moving in together are the two big ones. That’s our strongest case,” Daisy said.

“How is that going by the way?” Elias asked as if they were all at a dinner party and he was just making conversation.

Martin and Jon exchanged glances before Jon grumbled, “Fine.”

An earlier Martin might have crumbled at such a dismissive response. He would have spiraled to know how Jon hated having Martin in his space and how he was forced into this situation by external forces. Now though, Martin knew Jon fairly well, and he recognized that Jon didn’t feel comfortable sharing the details of their time together with his supervisor.

Not that there was anything scandalous to share, but Martin still respected that Jon liked to keep his private and professional lives separate. That just made the whole situation all the more challenging for him.

“That’s nice and everything, but I still think we’re missing something. I don’t suppose you two are interested in kids?” Daisy suggested.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jon sputtered.

“Kids?” Martin gasped at the same time. “But we— That’s just—” He lifted his arms in the air when words failed to express his exact feelings on the matter.

“Now, now, there’s no need for the dramatics,” Elias chided. “You wouldn’t have to actually adopt a child. We understand this arrangement is only for a couple of years at most. However, if you did some of the preliminary paperwork for adoption, even met a few children—”

“No,” Jon interrupted. “No, we’re not doing that. To put that hope in a child’s heart when we both know we’re not actually going to adopt, I’m not doing that.”

The firm conviction in his voice stuttered, and he glanced at Martin with uncertainty. “Right?” he said.

Martin smiled softly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids eventually, but he didn’t want them as another piece of evidence in a court case. Jon was right. To do this to a kid would be cruel, and he didn’t want any part of it.

“Right,” Martin said. “We can try something else, but we’re not going to involve innocent kids in this.”

Daisy sighed heavily as if their morals were a large inconvenience to her. “Fine, there is another option,” she huffed.

“And?” Jon prompted.

“Right now, all your photos are just the two of you and a few with Sasha and Tim. You need to show that you’re both thoroughly immersed in each other’s lives, and that means meeting family.”

Martin froze. An old fight-flight-freeze instinct reared inside him. He tried desperately to pay attention to the conversation happening around him, but far more real in his mind, he heard a raspy angry voice, the pinch of harsh fingers, the cold of a lonely home.

“That’s going to be a problem as my grandmother raised me, and she passed away years ago,” Jon said.

“What about Martin?” Elias said cheerfully. “I’m sure he can help us out in this regard.”

All eyes turned to him, and Martin tried desperately to remember how to breathe. He needed to stay something, to participate in the conversation, but they all felt so far away. He took a breath, held it, one two, released it.

“My mother is my only family here in the States, and she lives in a care home. I’d hate to bother her,” Martin managed to choke out.

Jon narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, Elias cut in, “Nonsense, I’m sure your mother would love to have visitors. And parents always adore meeting the fiancees of their children. This would be the perfect outing to seal Jon’s case before the wedding.”

“It’s either that or adoption,” Daisy agreed.

Martin couldn’t say no, could he? They’d already gone this far. They merged their finances; they lived together for heaven’s sake. How could Martin back out now when they were so close to solving all of Jon’s problems?

He met Jon’s eyes, and he looked so concerned. There was the little wrinkle between his eyes that Jon got when he was concentrating on a particularly challenging statement. Martin smiled to reassure him that all was fine before he said, “Okay. Maybe this weekend.”

“Excellent,” Elias exclaimed. “In that case, I’d say we are perfectly on track to keep Jon in the country. Is that right, Ms. Tonner?”

“Sure, as long as they don’t fuck anything up,” Daisy agreed.

That was the sentiment Martin carried with him and he and Jon left Elias’s office.

…

That night, Martin cooked while Jon sat at the counter and cut up vegetables. It was one of the many tiny routines they had created together, and this was one of Martin’s favorites. Before he’d moved in with Jon, he had mostly stuck to ready-made meals because cooking for one just didn’t feel worth it. He had actually forgotten how much he used to enjoy cooking, and living with Jon, he felt justified in taking the time to do it.

Jon didn’t particularly enjoy the act of creation in cooking like Martin did, but he liked to keep his hands busy while he kept Martin company in the kitchen. It also gave them a chance to chat while they were also focused on other things.

Tonight though, there was a different energy between them, and Martin had a feeling he knew what it was. As he added the last of Jon’s chopped vegetables to the stew, he braced himself for the conversation he had been dreading from the moment they left Elias’s office.

Sure enough, Jon cleared his throat and said, “Listen, Martin, if you don’t want to introduce me to your mother, that’s perfectly fine. I’m sure the case will be acceptable without it.”

The stew didn’t really need Martin’s undivided attention, but he still kept his eyes trained on the pot while he stirred. “It’s fine, Jon. Daisy and Elias think the case needs something else, and this is better than bringing in some poor kid.”

“Yes, but not everything is about the case,” Jon said. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if—”

“It’s fine, Jon.”

Martin didn’t mean to sound so short, and he immediately wished he could take the words back. It was moments like this when he realized how close to his mother he was, his words just as hurtful, his moods just as extreme and unpredictable. He hated these parts of himself, and he refused to become the person who had made him feel so small and unloved in childhood.

He took a deep breath. “I thought we could go Saturday if that works for you. I’ll call ahead, so she knows we’re coming,” he said as neutrally as possible.

It wasn’t the best peace offering, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Martin hadn’t dared to look away from his stew to gauge Jon’s expression, so he waited for his response with every muscles in his body tensed.

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” Jon said quietly.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Martin was relieved when he could call the stew finished just so they could eat and have something else to focus their attention on. They took their bowls to the kitchen table, and Jon told him his soup was delicious, and Martin thanked him. Nothing felt right between them, and once they were finished eating, Jon practically shoved Martin out of the kitchen so he could wash the dishes.

Martin took a shower and cried.

…

The weirdness between them faded throughout the week until they were mostly back to normal. Their banter sometimes felt a little forced, but Martin supposed that was better than tense silence.

Friday night almost felt normal. They ordered takeout, and as they ate, they watched a movie. Martin could almost forget what they were going to do tomorrow, at least until Jon paused the movie and shifted his seat on the couch to look directly at Martin.

“Are you sure about tomorrow?” he said.

The familiar panic seized him, but Martin forced himself to remain calm. “Yes, Jon, it’s going to be fine,” he said, careful to keep the prickliness out of his voice. He didn’t want to snap again.

Jon bit his lip, and Martin realized he had never seen Jon so nervous before. Not even when they’d moved in together or when he’d apologized for his insensitivity at the bank.

“Martin, is it— does she—” Jon sighed. “Have you not told your mother that you’re gay?”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, I know there’s probably a better way to have this conversation, but I don’t want to out you to your mother. We can pretend to be friends if that’s what you’d prefer. It won’t matter in the pictures,” he said.

Martin almost wanted to laugh, but he was honestly worried that Jon might cry if he did that now.

“It’s okay, Jon,” he said. “Mum knows I’m gay. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She wouldn’t be thrilled to see a reminder of Martin’s sexuality, but she wouldn’t be happy to see Martin at all, so he didn’t think Jon’s presence would make it worse.

“Oh,” Jon said, derailed from where he had clearly the conversation had been going. “Good. I suppose that takes care of that then.”

Martin sighed. He supposed there was no point in hiding it any longer. Jon would meet his mother tomorrow, and she had never been one for subtlety. It would be kinder to warn him at least a little rather than lead Jon into the lion den unprepared.

“Listen, about tomorrow, my mother’s been sick for a long time, and that wears on a person after a while,” he said carefully. He really did sympathize with his mother, and he knew she’d had a difficult life. He just wished things could be different between them, and he was long past the point of hoping for any change.

“She might be a bit short,” Martin continued. “She’s not always the friendliest. Please don’t take it personally.”

“Of course, Martin, it’s fine,” Jon assured him. “She’s your mother, and I’m just happy to meet her.”

Martin bit his lip. “Would you mind if I introduced you as my friend? It would just be such a big conversation to introduce you as my fiancee, and I’m not sure how much we want to have that talk.”

“Of course, whatever you think is best,” Jon agreed.

His tone was so kind and accommodating. Martin had never heard that tone from him before, and he didn’t know how to deal with all the feelings rising up in him as a result.

Martin offered up a weak smile, and he didn’t even have to fake the yawn that overtook him then. “I better go to bed. See you in the morning?”

“Yes, goodnight.”

“Night.”

Martin did not scurry or retreat from the living room. He walked at a perfectly respectable pace. Once he was out of sight though, he rushed through his bathroom routine and buried himself in his bed with the door closed as quickly as possible. He already felt like he had violated some rule by sharing what little he had with Jon, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Jon was now starting to wish he was marrying Sasha or Tim. Neither of them would have made such a big deal out of Jon meeting their family.

Things had been going so well, too. Martin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that he and Jon would be barely passable coworkers if Jon hadn’t needed him to stay in the country, but he thought they’d been making the most of the situation. They actually made for pretty good roommates, and Martin liked that he no longer came home to an empty apartment every day.

He was almost positive Jon had even gained a little weight since Martin had moved into the spare bedroom. He looked healthier, and it only made Martin want to experiment with more recipes.

He just hoped tomorrow didn’t ruin everything.

…

The next morning, Martin drank three cups of tea to try to make up for his night of restless sleep, but then the extra caffeine made him jittery. As they went through their morning routine of breakfast and getting ready, he tried to hide how miserable he felt, but he had a feeling Jon suspected.

Jon drove, and too soon, they were in the lobby of the care facility. Martin let the receptionist know that they were here, and then they sat to wait.

“You look nice,” Martin murmured.

He’d been too worked up to notice on the trip here, but Jon was wearing nice slacks and a sweater he’s never seen before with a collared shirt underneath. His hair looked different, too, more managed, though Martin had personally always liked the disheveled way Jon’s hair fell on any given day.

“Oh, um, thank you. You, too,” Jon said, face flushing.

Martin looked down, but he could only see what his mother would make comments about — his jeans too short, his shoes scuffed, his sweater far too outrageous even though he had chosen his plainest one.

Before Martin could come up with an answer, the receptionist beckoned them back to his mother’s room. The two of them stood, and Martin took a deep breath that did nothing to help the choking feeling in his chest.

The edges of his vision started to get a little fuzzy as he walked, but he focused on Jon’s presence beside him. In thirty minutes, this would be over.

The receptionist let them into the room and shut the door behind them. Martin tried not to feel as if the receptionist sealed their fates in doing so. He plastered on a smile and turned to meet his mother, propped up against pillows on her bed.

“Hi, Mum. It’s good to see you,” he greeted softly. Sometimes she became irritable if he spoke too loudly.

Her face was already twisted into a sneer as she looked Martin up and down and then Jon. “Who’s this then?” she said.

“This is my friend, Jon. I mentioned him over the phone, do you remember? I said I’d bring him with me today.”

“Don’t talk to me like I have dementia, too,” she snapped, and Martin couldn’t quite hide a wince. “Of course I remember. Why is he here?”

“He’s my friend, and he wanted to meet my family,” Martin said.

“Hi, Mrs. Blackwood, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jon said, matching Martin’s gentle tone.

His posh manners only sharpened her defenses more. “Friends, you say. Where would Martin meet a friend? Last I heard, he had none at all.”

Heat bloomed across Martin’s cheeks, but he never let his smile falter. Years of practice.

“We met at work, Mum. We’ve worked together for a while now.”

“Oh, that explains it. He’s a coworker.”

“We were coworkers first, yes,” Jon agreed. “But now we’re good friends. Martin and I spend quite a bit of time together now.”

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

Martin fought the urge to sigh. He had known this would be a bad idea, and he no longer had the energy to pretend this was anything but a disaster. They might as well get what they had come for.

“Mum, why don’t we get a picture? We don’t have any pictures together anymore,” Martin said.

“Why would you want that? Why would you come bother a sick woman with pictures?” she hissed. “Do I look like I feel up to a photograph? Or visitors? I’m sick and tired, and I want to be left in peace.”

“Mum, please—”

“What kind of son bothers his mother like this? Can’t you see that I am much too tired for company?”

Martin opened his mouth to try again, but Jon interrupted softly, “Martin, let’s go. It’s fine.”

“But—”

Jon met his eyes and smiled kindly. “Really, I promise it’s fine,” he said.

Martin hated himself for the relief that suddenly flooded him. He had never wanted to come here, and now he was just grateful to finally receive permission to leave.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The two of them both moved for the door, but his mother’s voice cut through the calm that had swept over him like a serrated knife.

“Actually, wait. I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

They both paused, but his mother glared at Jon. “I’d like to talk to my son alone,” she said.

Jon met Martin’s eyes in a clear question, but he smiled in return. “It’s fine,” he said. “You can wait in the lobby.”

Jon hesitated, but when Martin offered him nothing else, he nodded. “I’ll be just down the hall,” he said and then quickly left.

The moment they were alone, Martin felt the mood in the room shift. His mother stared at him with clear disgust and disdain as she beckoned him to come closer with a flick of her hand. He knew what would happen, but his feet moved without his conscious decision. Without any thought, he was suddenly at her bedside, and her claw-like hand gripped his wrist.

“Who was that really?” she said.

“Just a friend from work, Mum. He just offered to come with me when I said I’d be visiting you this weekend,” he said and prayed she didn’t notice the tremble in his voice.

She did though. She always did.

Her grip on his wrist tightened, and the bones sawed together in his wrist. He fought hard not to show the pain on his face. She hated that.

“That wasn’t just a friend though, was it? There’s only one way you can get someone to spend time with you, isn’t there?” she snarled.

Heat again flooded his face, and he was just grateful Jon wasn’t here to witness his shame and humiliation. At least she’d waited for them to be alone.

“Get out of my sight,” she hissed. “Disgusting useless boy.”

The moment she let go of his wrist, he fled the room and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the door and took a moment just to breathe and get his expression back under control. He didn’t want Jon to see him while he was still shaky and moments away from crying.

When he at last felt whole enough to face other people, he walked into the lobby with a smile fixed on his face.

“Ready then?” he asked.

Jon glanced up from the tattered paperback he was reading and nodded. His initial surprise faded into suspicion, but Martin refused to let his smile falter. He bid his farewell to the receptionist, and the two of them walked to Jon’s car.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked once they were settled in their seats.

Martin focused on buckling his seatbelt. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry we didn’t get the pictures. Waste of a trip.”

“I don’t care about the pictures. I care about—” Jon sighed. “Really, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m just ready to be back home.”

Jon smiled softly, and Martin blushed as he realized what he’d said. Was that the first time he had referred to the apartment he shared with Jon as home? It must have been, but that was how he felt. It was home now.

Without saying a word, Jon pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the highway.

…

They still had most of the Saturday ahead of them, but once they were in the apartment, Martin wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his bed and nap. He knew from experience that would only make him feel worse in the long run though, so instead, he asked Jon if he would like a cup of tea.

“Yes, please,” he agreed and followed Martin into the kitchen.

Jon sat on a stool at the counter while Martin set the kettle to boiling. Normally he stuck to the teas readily available in a basket next to the kettle, but now seemed like a good day for the specialty teas Martin kept in a cabinet above the fridge. He liked to take the out-of-sight-out-of-mind approach with his special occasion snacks.

He reached up to take the tea down from the cabinet and dropped the box when Jon snapped, “Martin, what’s that?”

Startled, Martin picked up the tea and showed Jon the box. “Hazelnut cookie tea? I just thought it’d be nice,” he said.

“Not that,” Jon said, and he was off the stool and crowding into Martin’s space before his mind had time to catch up to what was happening. He reached for Martin’s hand, and all thoughts vanished as their skin touched.

Jon, however, had only one thing on his mind. He pushed the sleeve of his sweater up to reveal a ring of dark bruises around Martin’s wrist.

Oh.

He normally hid them effortlessly, but Jon must have noticed when he’d reached for the tea.

Martin removed his hand from Jon’s grip and took a step back to put some space between them. “It’s nothing, Jon. Don’t worry about it.”

“How are you going to tell me not to worry about it? If someone is hurting you, then we’re going to do something about it,” Jon fumed.

The last time Martin had seen Jon so angry was when he’d knocked over an entire shelf of statements they had just sorted. Martin had truly thought Jon was going to fire him then, but now that ire wasn’t directed at him exactly but was actually for him. No one ever got angry for Martin.

He knew Jon wasn’t angry at him, he did, but old instincts rose in him to have someone so emotional so close to him. His defenses went up, and he took another step back.

“I said to leave it alone,” Martin said.

Jon’s anger took a hit as hurt bloomed across his face, but then the anger rose again with a vengeance. “Has someone threatened you, Martin? You can tell me, and we’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to live like this.”

A bitter chuckle pulled from Martin’s lips. “Jon, this isn’t something to be fixed. This is just how things are, and it’s fine. I dealt with it fine before you were in my life, and I can deal with it now.”

The anger fled from Jon entirely, and sadness washed over him instead. He stared at Martin as if he was some lost puppy in a ditch, and Martin hated that look. He was a grown man who had managed just fine, and he didn’t deserve to be looked at with such sympathy.

“Martin, was it your—?” Jon cleared his throat but forced himself to continue, “Was it your mother?”

Martin averted his eyes. “She’s very sick. She doesn’t always know what she’s doing.”

“Oh, that’s _bullshit_.”

The swear caught them both by surprise, and even in the midst of their argument, they exchanged wide-eyed glances. A giggle, a real one this time, bubbled up inside of Martin.

“Bullshit?” Martin repeated.

Jon blushed. “It just sort of came out.”

“It’s just so American. Are you sure you’re not from here?”

“It’s hard not to pick up on a few things now and then,” Jon grumbled.

Now Martin laughed fully even as he felt a little like he might cry. In a way he was almost relieved. He had spent so much of his life hiding things, and now this secret, this one big secret, was out in the open, and Jon wasn’t accusing him of faking or lying. He was angry on his behalf. He was on Martin’s side.

“I’m sorry, Martin. I didn’t mean to push or make you feel bad. I just worry about you,” Jon said, and his voice was small, genuinely sorry.

Martin gave him a small smile. “Let’s make some tea and maybe go on a walk. Would that be okay?”

Jon smiled in return. “Yes, that would be lovely.”


	5. Motion to Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon deals with his feelings.

Jon lived close to a park, something he had recently learned from Martin. He had lived here for three years now, and he had been so focused on work that he’d rarely taken time to relax, let alone done something as seemingly frivolous as taking a walk.

For Martin though, looking up the closest park was one of the first things he’d done when he’d moved into Jon’s flat — their flat — and now taking a walk in the park was something they did almost every day after dinner. Jon hated to admit it, but he’d actually noticed some improvements as a result. He felt stronger, and he didn’t get quite so winded after taking too many stairs.

He also slept better at night, but that also might have been the fact that he now went to sleep at fairly regular times. Martin never said anything, but Jon knew that Martin didn't sleep well if the flat was not entirely dark and quiet, so Jon tried to go to bed around the same time he did. As a result, he now read for half an hour before bed each night, something he used to enjoy and had rediscovered.

Now that he thought about it, Martin’s presence had improved his life in so many ways, far more than as a ploy to stay in the country. He was also just a genuinely good person who Jon enjoyed spending time with, which still seemed like a revelation. Now he couldn’t even remember why he had been so annoyed by Martin when they had just been coworkers.

A pang of guilt hit him as Martin finished their cups of tea and handed a mug to Jon. He had treated Martin so terribly, and Martin had never batted an eye, and now Jon knew why. Martin was used to that sort of treatment. He expected it.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Martin murmured, glancing down at his bruised wrist, now hidden by his shirt sleeve.

“No, I do,” Jon insisted. “I treated you so badly for all the time we worked together. You had no reason to do this favor for me, and you’ve gone above and beyond, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“Jon—”

“It’s true, Martin. You know it is. Why did you agree to this? I’ve never done anything to warrant this kind of sacrifice from you.”

Martin sighed. “Let’s go on a walk.”

Jon started to argue, but Martin gave him a look that immediately silenced him. Martin didn’t often stand his ground, but when he did, it was important. The two of them left the flat and walked across the street to the park. They started on the walking trail and sipped their tea, and for a moment, they just enjoyed the autumn leaves and the pleasant weather.

“I lied on my resume.”

The confession was so random and unexpected that Jon took a moment to realize Martin had been the one to say it. He glanced over to the taller man, who clutched his tea with more strength than required. He stubbornly stared ahead as they walked, and Jon finally looked away as well.

“You lied on your resume,” he said, trying to make the words make sense.

Martin nodded. “My mother came here for experimental treatment, but even afterward, she still needed expensive medication and eventually a care home. It added up to a lot, so I dropped out of school to support us. But well, there aren’t a lot of well-paying jobs for dropouts, so I lied on my resume.”

“So you don’t have a—?”

“No, I don’t have a master’s in parapsychology.”

“Oh,” Jon said. “Well that’s actually a bit of a relief.”

Martin laughed, and Jon smiled in turn. He wanted to hold onto that brief moment of joy on Martin’s face, but it passed too quickly.

“Elias knows. I don’t know how, but he does.”

“That you lied? But what does—? Oh.” Anger flared in Jon, but the flames came touched by guilt and panic. He had never felt comfortable with asking this from Martin, but if Martin had actually been blackmailed into it… He swallowed thickly. “He used it against you. He forced you to agree to marry me.”

“Not exactly,” Martin hurried to say. “I wanted to help, and I didn’t want you to have to leave the country, and it’s not like we’ve done anything except move in together. We’re basically just roommates who will have a marriage license.”

“But Elias still forced you. You didn’t have a choice,” Jon said.

He was suddenly so thankful for the mug of tea in his hand. Without that small anchor, he thought he might lose it entirely, and Martin had been the one to make the tea.

“I had a choice,” Martin insisted. “Elias just made it clear that I might not keep my job if I didn’t agree to this.”

This time, when the anger came, it was pure. “He can’t do that to you,” Jon hissed.

“Jon, it’s fine. This actually hasn’t been so bad? I like living with you, and I know this isn’t typically how you find a roommate, but I think we’ve got a good thing going for us.” Martin’s voice suddenly became very small as he stole a glance at Jon. “Don’t you?”

“Of course, Martin, of course I do. I never thought we’d be here, but I like what we have,” Jon said, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much, but Martin just looked so small and vulnerable, and he deserved to know how Jon felt.

Relief washed across Martin’s face, and he nodded as if that settled that, but Jon couldn’t ignore the way electric energy frantically bubbled just beneath his skin. He had just received a lot of information all at once, and his mind kept bouncing from thought to thought, unsure where to land.

The teeny part of him that was still Martin’s supervisor marveled that he had lied on his resume. He used to complain about Martin’s work constantly, but that had mostly been because Jon had been feeling insecure about Elias feeling the need to transfer someone else down to the archives. Martin’s work was actually well-crafted, and he hadn’t even finished school.

But that was such a small pixel in the greater picture. How could he go along with this when he now knew Martin had basically been forced into this relationship? Not that they really had a relationship. They barely sat within a foot of each other when they both sat on the couch, but their lives had become hopelessly entangled in a way that Jon couldn’t begin to unravel — and he really didn’t want to.

His heart ached at the thought of losing this new life they’d created together, but he couldn’t let Martin continue to sacrifice his life like this.

“Martin, just because I like what we have doesn’t mean I want you to keep going along with this because you’re afraid you might lose your job,” Jon said.

When Martin looked at him, his face softened, and that only made Jon feel more guilty. How could Martin stare at him so endearingly when Jon had uprooted his whole life?

“It doesn’t matter, Jon. We’ve made the most of it, and it’s not like this is forever. Once your case is approved, we don’t even have to stay living together. Then in two years, we can have a quiet divorce. It’ll be fine.”

He said the words so comfortingly and smiled the whole time as if placating a child, but Jon wanted to scream and protest. That wasn’t what he wanted either, but when he faced with the choices, he didn’t really know what he wanted.

He didn’t want Martin to feel blackmailed into this, and he didn’t want to enter into a loveless marriage with Martin only to return to their distant supervisor-and-subordinate relationship once his case was approved. He didn’t know how to put any of his chaotic feelings into words though, so he let the silence stretch between them.

They continued to walk around the park and sip their tea.

…

The weekend passed in the usual way for them now. They did some light cleaning, and they visited a bookstore for a new release Martin was interested in — some poetry anthology. They went grocery shopping, and then Martin made dinner while Jon chopped things from the counter.

It was all so normal and wonderfully perfect, and every action made Jon’s heart ache because he wanted this to last so far beyond a pending court case.

He didn’t have it in him to examine what that meant.

…

On Monday morning, they drove to work, but when Martin left to retrieve a book from the library, he stopped by Sasha’s desk as casually as he could. He apparently did not succeed because Sasha looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Could I speak with you in my office?” he said with a glance toward Tim. Thankfully, Tim was listening to one of the statements, so he didn’t notice as Jon and Sasha crept back to Jon’s office and shut the door behind him.

Jon started to sit in his usual chair, but Sasha’s voice made him hesitate. “Wait,” she said, patting the seat next to her on the small couch. “I have a feeling this isn’t about work, so we’re not doing this as supervisor and employee.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jon muttered as he took the seat on the couch. He tried to make himself comfortable, but that was impossible right now.

“Now what’s this about?”

Jon couldn’t bring himself to look Sasha in the eyes, so he addressed one of the art prints hanging on the wall. “I, um, I really shouldn’t tell you this, but I need help, and I trust you to tell me the truth even if it’s comfortable. But before I get to that, you should know that Martin and I haven’t secretly been in a relationship for three years. The whole engagement is a lie to help me get a green card to stay in the country.”

He braced himself for more yelling than when he’d first told her and Tim that he and Martin were engaged, but instead, Sasha calmly said, “Yeah, I know.”

Jon blinked. “You know?”

Sasha shrugged. “You guys aren’t really subtle. You act like a brand new couple, all cautious around each other. It’s kind of sweet. Or it would be if it wasn’t all a lie.”

“But how did you guess—?”

“That it’s the help you stay in the country?” Sasha looked at least a little apologetic as she said the next part. “Well, I couldn’t imagine you doing something like this for Martin, and Martin would do literally anything for anyone, so it had to be for your sake. From there, it was pretty easy. There are only so many reasons why someone would need to marry someone they don’t love.”

Jon flinched even though he really had no right. Sasha had just told the truth, and that was the exact reason he had come to her. He couldn’t act surprised about information he already knew.

“You never said anything,” Jon said quietly.

“It didn’t seem like my business. Don’t get me wrong, if you or Martin had started to seem genuinely unhappy, Tim and I were planning to intervene, but you two actually—” Sasha trailed off and then shrugged again. “You two actually started to act happier. You take lunch breaks now, and Martin doesn’t wring his hands anytime someone talks to him.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes. “Are you two actually together now? Because that’s pretty cute. You two are weirdly good for each other.”

Somehow, those words cut him deeper than anything else Sasha had said so far.

“No,” Jon said, ignoring the ache in his chest. “We’re not together. Actually, I’m not sure I can go through with this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Sasha said.

Jon started to tell the story of their visit to the care home, but the words did not come. He was almost certain that Martin would not want anyone to know about how his mother treated him even though it was nothing he had done wrong. Instead, Jon only told Sasha of Elias blackmailing Martin into agreeing to marry Jon and how he no longer felt comfortable forcing Martin in this situation.

He had never been entirely comfortable with the arrangement, but before, Martin had been an annoying coworker who Jon did not want to spend any more time with. Now he was his friend, his roommate, someone he genuinely cared about, and he hated being another person in his life who took advantage of him.

Even if Martin didn’t hold any of it against him, Jon couldn’t live with himself.

Sasha’s lip parted in horror when Jon finished, and she shook her head. “No, Elias— he’s kind of the worst, but surely he wouldn’t—”

Jon nodded gravely. “It’s extreme, and I don’t really understand why it’s so important to him that I stay here, but I suppose blackmailing Martin felt like an appropriate response to him.”

“I knew about Martin’s resume. Tim does, too. But I never dreamed—”

Part of Jon wanted to talk for a moment about how all of his assistants had kept that little secret from him, but the desire quickly fizzled out. It didn’t matter, and it was far from his biggest problem right now.

“I can’t do this to him,” Jon said.

“No, you can’t,” Sasha agreed. “But if you don’t, you and Martin will both lose your jobs, and you’ll have to leave the country.”

“Exactly. I don’t really see another solution though.”

Sasha leaned back into the couch and tapped her leg, a habit that meant she was thinking. Jon recognized it from when she was researching a particularly difficult statement, and he knew he’d come to her for a reason.

“Have you talked to Martin about this?” Sasha said.

Jon winced. “No, I haven’t. If I tell him I’ve changed my mind about getting married, I worry he’ll take it the wrong way.”

“But if you explain it to him,” Sasha said. “Tell him the truth. Surely he’ll appreciate that you don’t want to push him into anything, and even if he loses this job, he can find another one, right?”

Jon thought back to the cramped flat Martin had moved out of and the pristine care facility where they had visited his mother. It was very clear where all of Martin’s money was going, and he wouldn’t be able to handle even a few weeks without a paycheck.

“He still lied on his resume. I’m not sure he’ll be able to find a job that pays as well,” Jon said.

“And definitely not one with healthcare,” Sasha said.

“America,” Jon growled. It was times like this when he actually wanted to return to London. He loved his home, and he had meant to be back by now, but he still had work to do here.

The work used to feel so important. It was the driving force in his life. It was what he thought about during every spare moment, but now that Jon really considered it, that was becoming less and less the case. Now he thought about recipes he wanted to try with Martin and what kind of plant to add to the growing collection in his home. He looked forward to their walks in the park, not going into work the next day.

Would it be the worst thing to end his career as Head Archivist? Of course, if he went back to London, Martin would still be here, and his chest ached at the thought of an ocean between them.

But if he stayed, he was forcing Martin into a situation beyond his control.

A sacrifice had to be made. He just had to decide which one.

Jon sighed. “I know what I have to do,” he said.

Sasha looked into his eyes for a long time, but she must have liked whatever she saw because she nodded. “Okay.”

…

Jon went up to Elias’s office and turned in his two-week resignation.

He then made a few carefully-worded suggestions that if Martin was suddenly without a job, then the local newspaper might receive an anonymous tip about certain illegal activities taking place within the Usher Foundation.

Elias looked furious, and Jon left his office satisfied at first and then deeply sad.

…

After work, Jon and Martin drove home as they did every day now, and Martin idly chatted about interesting statements he’d read that day and some gossip he overheard in the break room. Jon let the soothing sound of his voice washed over him. He tried to enjoy the moments he had left with Martin, but he couldn’t help the sadness that now tainted every second. He knew he had done the right thing, but that didn’t make the aftermath any easier.

Once they were home, they changed into comfortable clothes. Jon watered the plants while Martin decided what to make for dinner. As he listened to Martin in the kitchen, Jon glanced around the flat and smiled softly. It was a home now. Soft blankets and pillows on the couch. Jon’s books carefully stacked on the end table. Natural light filtering through the blinds. A candle burning on the table. He would miss it.

Martin decided on spaghetti, so Jon took his usual spot on the counter and chopped vegetables for a salad.

Time passed slowly, dreamlike, and too fast at the same time. They ate, and Martin made after-dinner tea, and the two of them went to the park to take a walk and sip the honey-sweetened chamomile.

As the sun started to set in dreamy shades of purple and pink, Jon finally took a deep breath and said the words that had been lodged in his throat all night.

“Martin, I’m returning to London.”

Martin stopped, tea sloshing onto his hand at the sudden movement, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What?” he said, his voice choked.

Jon knew he needed to meet Martin’s eyes, no matter how his hurt expression gutted him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stared down at the cooling mug of tea in his hands.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” he said, but that sounded like a bad line during a breakup. “I mean, it’s not because I don’t want to marry you,” he tried again, but that put far too much of his heart on display, and he hadn’t been prepared for those words to tumble out of his mouth. Blushing and stammering, he said, “I just don’t want to put you in this position.”

“Jon, I already agreed to this. I don’t understand—” Martin cut himself off. “Is this because of what I told you about Elias? It doesn’t matter; it doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course it changes things,” Jon said. “How can I go through with this when I know you don’t have any choice in the matter?”

“I have a choice,” Martin insisted. “I could look for a new job. I’m sure I’d find something.”

“We both know why you haven’t done that yet, and you shouldn’t have to do it now,” Jon said.

“So what, this is all over?” Martin said, and there was a heat in his voice. Jon finally forced himself to look up, and he was devastated to see tears in Martin’s eyes.

“You’ll go back to London,” Martin continued. “I’ll go back to my shitty apartment, and we’ll pretend like this never happened?”

“Martin—”

“I thought— I thought things were going well,” Martin said, and he smiled through his tears. “You know? I thought things were nice, and I thought that you felt that way, too, but I guess I was wrong.”

The unspoken question hung heavily between them, and Jon realized he had two choices before him. He could be brave and risk everything or cowardly continue down the path he always had before, the path that had kept him safe, the path that was familiar.

But he didn’t want to be on that path anymore, Jon realized. The lonely path where he lived in a nice apartment but with no character, where he worked every spare moment, where he never exercised or ate vegetables, where he only ever spoke to coworkers and only in a professional context. His life with Martin was so different and even messier in some way, but he felt alive in a way he never had before.

“You weren’t wrong,” Jon said. “Martin, I’ve loved living with you, sharing this life with you. I think I love— Well, I love being with you.”

He was a coward at the end, but he’d put himself out there as much as he could, and perhaps that was a good thing because Martin looked as if he might faint. His lips were parted in shock, and his eyes were wide.

“You do?” he said, his voice small.

Jon nodded. “More than I can even say. I didn’t know what to expect when I agreed to this, and I thought it would be a chore, but well. I care more about you than I do about staying in the country or my job.”

Martin wiped at his eyes, and no tears flowed to replace the old ones. “You’d be leaving though,” he pointed out.

“I’d like to stay in touch if you’d be open to it,” Jon said.

A laugh bubbled up from Martin’s lips, and he smiled. “I think I’d be open to it. And maybe—” Martin bit his lip. “Maybe I could visit you in London? I miss it, you know. It will always be home to me.”

“Martin, that would be lovely,” Jon said softly.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but then they were in each other’s arms, and Jon inhaled the sweet nutty scent of Martin’s hair, and he felt so warm and safe in his embrace. Their mugs of tea were held awkwardly to avoid spilling, but Jon didn’t care. It was still perfect.

When they parted, Jon cleared his throat. “There’s, ah, still one thing to discuss.”

Martin raised his eyebrows.

“I’d like you to stay in my apartment.”

Before Martin could finish his protest, Jon shook his head. “Abandoning the lease like this would cost me a lot of money. It would actually be cheaper for me to continue to pay half for the rest of the time, and then you wouldn’t have to move again. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Martin said.

“You would,” Jon insisted. “And well, we’ve created quite the home for ourselves, don’t you think? I’d feel better knowing you were still living there.”

Martin couldn’t seem to stop himself from embracing Jon again, and he was more than happy to fall into his arms. They soon decided that this would be better done in the warmth of their home, so they made their way back. Once they’d placed their mugs in the sink, they settled onto the couch where they curled into each other. It felt right, and Jon marveled that they hadn’t been doing this all along.

Just like so many nights before, Jon read a book, and Martin scribbled poetry into a notebook, but it was different. Jon knew he’d be leaving soon, and he hated the thought of being separated from Martin, but this was the right choice.

He knew their paths would cross again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Elias never successfully manipulated Jon into becoming the Archivist, Martin moved to London, and Jon and Martin lived happily ever after :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the kind comments on this story! :)


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